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Dear Abbey: Letter One
Correspondence The Letter Dear Abbey: I am 8 colors tall. Some of my little hallucinations say there is no Eris. Papa says,"If you see it in the pattern of OUR RUG, it is so." Please tell me the truth, is there an Eris? Chaste Narcissist The Response Chaste Narcissist, your little figments are wrong. They have been affected by the greyscape of a greyface age. They do not see what others can believe except they "know" what others haven't seen. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little unreal minds. All mines Chaste Narcissist, whether they be men's or children's, are little in comparison to the depths of delved dirt in this great universe of ours. Man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, and an ant is a mere microbe, in its intellect, and a microbe is a mere electrical energy probability state as compared with the boundless world about them, as measured by the intelligence, or equal yet opposite, no-sense, yet capable of grasping by IMAGINATION and WILL the whole of truth and knowledge and spatial depth of delved dirt. Yes, Chaste Narcissist, there is an Eris. She exists as certainly as chaos and change and mud exist, and you know that those things abound and give to your delusional life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! And alackaday! How dreary would be the world and its mines if there were no Eris! It would be as dreary as if there were no Chaste Narcissists. There would be no childlike imaginary friends then, no gaseous figments that prompt you to do something, something that you might feel is wrong, but absolves you in beatific benevolent forgiveness of not your sins, but the sins perpetrated under their persistent goading. No poetry, no romance would exist to make tolerable this entrancing murmur within your head. We should have no enjoyment, except in the mundane reality, relying solely on sense and sight. The eternal sparkly sparkling things with which chaos-twined fantasy could fill the world would be extinguished. Not believe in Eris! You might as well not believe in fairies trapped in mine shafts! You might get your naysayer to hire men to watch in all the laboratories and in all the particle accelerators and in small ravines and earthen tunnels to catch Eris, but even if they did not see Eris lurking about, what would that prove? Nobody sees Eris, but that is no sign that there is no Eris. The most real things in the world are those that neither rational people nor mentally challenged misfits can see. Did you ever see fairies digging at the ole silver mine? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world except those who try with a little help from their vaporous intuition. You may tear apart the backhoe and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only fixated faith with chaotic musings containing all the data sheets for the fancy latest high tech earth moving equipment, poetry, love, romance, beer and direct divine revelation can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Chaste Narcissist, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding as Eris, Goddess of Chaos. No Eris? Thank Goddess! She lives, and She lives forever. A thousand years from now, Chaste Narcissist, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, She will continue to make glad the overactive mind, the chronic overfilled heart and feed the incessant fears of childhood, as they grow into long term disturbances in the psyche, excavating the dirt and spreading its jouy like free flowing happy guano to nurture unreal, yet culturally significant potential in a most unorganized manner. Abbott Abbey of the Variegated Tropes